


those who tell the truth will die (those who tell the truth will live forever)

by proximally



Series: abandoned works [10]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Canon, Suicide, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27139345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proximally/pseuds/proximally
Summary: “Now, why don’t we get down to what we are paid for, hmm?” said Al’s captor, and suddenly there was a gun in his hand, pointed athim-
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Edward Elric & The Truth
Series: abandoned works [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981928
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26
Collections: Good Intentions: Abandoned and Unfinished WIPs





	those who tell the truth will die (those who tell the truth will live forever)

**Author's Note:**

> title from the Explosions In The Sky album of the same name.
> 
> originally written in march/april 2015, when i was but a baby. 
> 
> if you'd like to take the concept and run with it, please feel free! i'd really appreciate this being linked back to though.
> 
> NOTE: PLEASE HEED THE TAGS AND BE SAFE.  
> cw: suicide. ed comes back, but it's there. basically stop reading either at iii. CARBON, or at the end of the first section of iv. IRON (after "A lock of golden hair had been included."). all sections after contain at least mention of suicide.

i : LEAD

 _How could we have been so_ stupid _?_

It was the only thought running through his head as he lay there, the cobblestone digging uncomfortably into his face and pain lancing up his side from the impact. He was still so frail - only a few weeks out of hospital, and only months since he’d even got his body back. He was working hard to regain the weight and muscle he’d lost, but it took time - even the simple task of grocery shopping was tiring, and after several hours of being on his feet Ed could’ve knocked him down with a feather.

Of course, what had blindsided him was a lot heavier than a tuft of eiderdown. They’d made the mistake of taking a shortcut back home - a shortcut that took them through several dark alleyways, but it wasn’t as though they’d never been down these backstreets before. They should’ve been alert, more wary, but as it was? They weren’t.

The men had come out of nowhere. Dark clothes and covered faces, armed with half a dozen blades each, with the advantage of surprise the three of them were more than a match for the two inattentive blond boys.

Head met cobblestones as Al was knocked flat by the first attacker, and though Ed remained on his feet, he made the mistake of clapping his hands - a futile gesture that gave his adversary the perfect opportunity to stick him in the ribs. 

_“Brother!”_

...And now the thugs had been alerted to the fact that he was still conscious. Al scrambled to his feet as one of the men - the biggest, but not by much - broke away from the fight and launched himself at the younger brother. Al dodged the punch and returned one of his own, but it seemed the man was made of bricks - he swore he felt something in his hand snap, but the adrenaline was up and he couldn’t feel a thing. The man swung again and again, forcing Al to give ground and keeping him on the back foot. Fragile as he was, one good hit could put him out, and both of them knew it.

He couldn’t dodge forever.

Al saw the fist coming; he stepped backwards to avoid it, and a cold certainty rippled through him when he felt his foot meet the wall. He spared a glance at his brother - one attacker downed, the other still going strong, but, _oh_ , was Ed _limping-_? 

The impact was twofold; first the man’s boulder of a fist breaking his jaw, and then the _crack_ as the back of his head met the wall. He blacked out for a moment, and when he came to he was face up on the ground with a cautionary pressure on his throat. The sounds of fighting had dissipated, and suddenly he recognised his brother’s voice - were they negotiating?

“-ou fucking _dare_ , I’ll _rip your-_!”

No, of course not. This was Ed, after all.

“Can it, shorty,” came a deep voice from directly above Al, and that Ed made no response to the slight brought it home that things were _really not good_ . “It’s _over_ . You can’t even _stand_. Give it up.”

Ed snorted. “D’you even know who I _am_?”

“ _You_ are Edward Elric, ex-State Alchemist, and _this_ ,” removing his foot from Al’s throat, the man proceeded to roll the boy onto his stomach - jostling his broken jaw, and causing him to cry out in pain. 

_“Al!”_

This new vantage point did have its benefits - though he didn’t dare try and move further, he could just about make out his brother’s panicked face through the gloom. He too was on the floor, with one of the other men sat heavily on his back to prevent him from going anywhere. 

Brickhead - the man next to Al - kicked the younger boy viciously. “- _this_ is Alphonse Elric, who apparently used to be a suit of armour.” 

“Guy who hired us’s got some beef with you two,” offered the one pinning Ed, and judging by the voice, the man was actually a woman. Which was surprising, given her house-like build. “Don’t know why, don’t give a shit. Don’t get paid to ask questions.”

 _Mercenaries?_ This wouldn’t be the first time, but, _damn_ \- who’d they ticked off now?

“Too true,” agreed Brickhead. “Now, why don’t we get down to what we _are_ paid for, hmm?” And with that, the man withdrew a pistol from his belt and shot Edward Elric in the head.

Thuggella scrambled away, swearing, and Brickhead was still talking, but Al didn’t notice either. He had eyes only for his brother, limp and lifeless on the cobbles, a look of shock and terror on his face and a bloody hole in his forehead.

 _No._ No _. This isn’t happening. Brother is fine, this is just a nightmare, you’re gonna wake up and he’ll be right there in the kitchen, falling asleep at the table again-_

A sudden kick in the ribs suggested that this was no bad dream, and a follow-up confirmed it. Blackness rose to claim him, but before his senses could fade completely he registered a noticeable lack of kicking, and a familiar voice near his head.

“Al? Al! Oh, _fuck_ , Alphonse, don’t you _dare_ \- don’t you _dare_ go dying on me now!” cried his brother. “I _swear_ , Al, you’d better be alright, because otherwise I’m gonna have to bring you back and kill you again _myself_!”

The ghost - for it could only be a ghost, his brother - o _h, Ed -_ his brother had a fucking _bullet_ in his _head -_ the ghost, terribly corporeal it seemed, gathered him into its arms, and kept talking.

Even if it was impossible, even if it was a hopeless delusion, it comforted Al to know that if he died here, at least it would be to the familiar and soothing sound of his brother’s extensive and obscene vocabulary.

-

( _“Now, why don’t we get down to what we_ are _paid for, hmm?” said Al’s captor, and suddenly there was a gun in his hand, pointed at_ him-

Ed opened his eyes and pressed one hand to his forehead. The skin was pristine and unbroken, and as he took in his surroundings he realised why.

[...]

_...I like you, Mr Al-chemist. so selfless - always giving, giving up everything you have. you’ve impressed me, you know - that’s pretty rare. so, I’ll tell you what - you can go back. you can have your leg back too, if you’d like - your automail is a little damaged, n’est-ce pas?_

“What’s the catch? What do you want from me?”

_why don’t we forget equivalent exchange for now, hmm? let’s make a deal, instead. deals don’t have to be equal, all that’s necessary is an agreement. so: you can cheat death. and you can have all of your limbs, flesh and blood._

“So what’s in it for you?”

_can’t I show a little compassion toward my favourite human?_

“No.”

A laugh. _well, perhaps one day I will need a favour. are we agreed?_

“If Al or Winry or, or anyone else gets caught up in this, I swear-”

_oh, calm, calm, do you see anybody else here? this deal is yours, and yours alone. I would not offer this to anyone else - nobody but you, Mr Al-chemist, has knowledge enough, skills enough, persistence enough to be more useful to me alive than dead._

“That’s not very comforting.”

 _I suppose not. but it_ is _True. do we have a deal?_

“If this is the only way I can save Al- and if there’s no price for anyone but me-”

_it is, and there is not._

“-then alright. I accept. Send me back.”

A nod of assent, and all of a sudden Ed can feel _both_ feet. _au revoir, Mr Al-chemist, ...tell the Flame I am pleased that he has regained his sight.)_

* * *

ii : OXYGEN 

It was a foul day in Abicittà. Autumn was setting in after a long, hot summer, and it seemed that the weather was making up for all the sunny days the Pontelucians had enjoyed. Most of the tourists to the port city had left a week ago, before the storms arrived, and those that remained were sequestered away in their hotel rooms making the most of the room service.

But for the locals, life went on; there was work to do, groceries to buy, errands to run. A little seasonal rain wouldn’t stop anyone from getting food on the table, though many complained loudly about it.

Ofelia was one such; she was on a mission to locate the best-priced cut of beef in town, and though she was soaked to the bone from hours of dashing through the rain, so far she had been unsuccessful. Oh, she’d picked up other things - a flashy cigar case as a last-minute gift, some bargain vegetables, the newest Agata Cristiana mystery novel - but her goal remained out of sight. Goodness gracious, what did a girl have to do around here to get some decent meat for her father’s birthday?

Intent on giving her aching feet a rest, Ofelia took shelter within a covered alley, and sank gratefully to the cobblestones. She’d have to go pick up little Marius and Lucia soon; she didn’t like them to walk home alone as it was, but in weather like this one or both of them could so easily get blown into one of the canals.

[...]

-

_(back so soon, Mr Al-chemist? if I had known that you enjoyed my company-_

“I don’t.”

_well, at least you’re honest. any pressing concerns?_

“Other than the fact I’m dead again, no, not really.”

_excellent - that is a problem that I can fix._

“What?”

_we made a deal, remember? you saved your brother, so someday you will repay me with a favour. you can’t weasel out of this by virtue of being dead, I’m afraid._

“I don’t understand.”

_oh, you do. you do. now tell me, how have you fared without your alchemy? because seeing how many times you’ve dropped in to visit, I would guess ‘not very well’._

“What the hell do you want now?!”

 _nothing. it merely occurred to me that the favour I might one day ask of you may need more than just your sharp tongue and fists, not to mention having to resurrect you so often is_ so _inconvenient. I’m doing this strictly for myself, Mr Al-chemist._

“I don’t believe you.”

_then that is your own problem; I speak only the Truth. have I ever lied to you? no. we made a deal: if I call, you will come. and in return, the Gate is barred to you._

“What? so- even if I wanted to die, I couldn’t?”

_precisely._

“What the f- no. No. Absolutely not. I didn’t agree to that. There’s other things I wanted to do, sure, but if I’m dead, I’m _dead-_ ”

_except you did agree to this - you cheat death. over and over again, if necessary. auf wiedersehen, Mr Al-chemist._

“Wait, I-!”)

* * *

iii : CARBON 

_[set before Ed and Al part ways, perp has been kidnapping blonde kids and technically Ed is still military - hasn't gotten himself discharged yet. Hawkeye is assigned as partner, much to his annoyance- just cause he can't do alchemy doesn't mean he's defenseless._

_And then he is attacked and killed by a chimera, and is resurrected right in front of her._

” _I-I made a mistake. A terrible mistake. But Al was going to die, I had no choice-”_ _]_

_-_

_(I never lied._

“Yes you did! You said to ignore equivalent exchange, that all you need to make a deal is agreement-”

_and that is true. an agreement is all that is necessary in a deal. but I never said that equivalent exchange did not apply._

[...]

_a lovely day, isn't it? shame about the chimera._

"..."

_oho, the silent treatment! now there's a first. well, no point in you hanging around if you're just going to be boring. arrivederci.)_

* * *

iv : IRON 

Edward Elric had been missing for three weeks.

They hadn’t worried, at first. Ed was hardly the most punctual of people, after all; he’d probably just gotten sidetracked by a particularly large library. But days passed, and still no word was sent - maybe he’d forgotten, but this was his _brother_ , and Ed _never_ skipped their weekly phonecall. Not even that time he’d been laid up in a Dormène hospital after being hit by a truck had he missed calling Al.

After a week liaising with foreign authorities and butting up against the language barrier enough times to give an elephant a concussion, it was finally established that Edward had been heading home - almost undoubtedly for Al’s birthday. Last time he’d called he’d been in Ymnia far to the south, but he’d been seen since on trains passing through Zimasini, Ponteluce and Creta, where they’d lost track of him. There were records of a golden-haired man leaving on a train to Central, but none of him ever arriving.

A search party was mobilised. Though Ed was no longer a State Alchemist, he was still listed as a military consultant, and if the public found out that the beloved People’s Alchemist had disappeared and nobody was doing anything to locate him...well. It didn’t bear thinking about.

Naturally after they went to so much effort, the Amestrian military received a ransom note. Or at least one member of it did. 

A typed message, pushed under General Mustang’s office door: an address, a sum, a time, and a warning. _No gloves, no guns. Come alone, or Elric gets more than just a haircut._ A lock of golden hair had been included. 

[…]

A man stepped forward from around the corner; dark disheveled hair, pale skin, unshaven, and holding a razor-sharp knife to the throat of Edward Elric. 

He looked awful. Two black eyes and a crooked nose, his right arm limp at his side, noticeably wincing at every step...and that was just the injuries Mustang could see. Ed’s golden eyes remained as fierce as ever, but an edge of panic crept in upon spotting his former commanding officer - alone, unarmed, a briefcase set on the floor next to his gloves.

“Oh, you fucking _idiot_ ,” Ed hissed, ignoring his captor entirely. “It’s a _trap,_ they don’t want _money_ -” He was cut off when the blade at his throat pressed against his skin, hard enough to draw blood. 

“I know! What was I supposed to do, let you _die_?”

The hostage glared at him, and Mustang didn’t have to hear him say it to know that Ed completely disagreed with his course of action. His golden eyes flickered to a point somewhere behind the General, but there was no time to look because suddenly his left hand had grabbed Beardy’s, forcing the knife into his own throat. 

Bright blood spurted from the severed artery - _the carotid,_ Mustang thought, _oh shit_ \- and Beardy leapt backwards, dropping Ed’s limp body to the floor where he continued to bleed out. Somebody swore loudly, a few paces behind him, but Mustang only had eyes for the fallen ex-alchemist, fallen _friend_ , who’d just _slit his own throat in front of him._

It didn’t make _sense_ . Edward Elric was _happy_ , he had his limbs, he had his brother, he had a fiancee, he was out of the military - he had _no reason_ to be suicidal, there was no reason why he’d just _killed himself_ right _there_ holy _fuck_ -

-and then his finger twitched. It was all the warning the kidnappers got before Ed was on his feet, his hands brought together in his signature style - no, Fullmetal, you’re not an alchemist anymore - and slammed on the ground.

For a moment, nothing happened, and all Mustang could think was, please don’t make me watch you die again - and then, a fist of stone punched its way up from the ground, trapping Beardy in its clutches. Ed, still covered in his own arterial spray, _grinned_. Mustang felt his knees give way, and was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

[...]

When he came to he was outside, staring at a slowly lightening sky, and he could hear somebody moving about nearby, humming softly. _Who-?_

“You awake yet, you utter idiot?”

 _Edward!_ Except Edward was dead, he’d _slit his own fucking throat,_ and, and-

“Hey, say something. C’mon. Yell at me. Just stop _staring_ like that, it’s fucking creepy.”

-and he was sitting right there beside him, very much alive.

“You’re _dead_ ,” he managed at last.

“Nah,” said Ed dismissively, “That’s impossible. And now you’re awake, we can get back to civilization! C’mon, your car’s just over ther-”

“ _Fullmetal._ ” Ed froze. “I saw you die. What did you _do?_ ”

“...Do you remember, two years ago, when Al and I were attacked on the way home? It was maybe six months after the Promised Day.”

“Alphonse was in hospital for a week. You didn’t have a scratch on you, and you had your leg back.”

“Yeah.”

“You died.”

“I died,” he agreed. “Guy shot me in the head. Al thinks it was just a terrible nightmare.”

Silence stretched between them, Ed not entirely willing to elaborate and Mustang still trying to process the implications.

“The chimera, last year-?”

“Yep. I lied.”

“ _How_?”

“I died. And then there was the Gate. The Truth said it was impressed, and it offered me a deal. Al was going to die. It was the only way I could save him.”

“And...and what did you give up? Because you clearly don’t have automail.”

“...I didn’t know, at first. I just wanted Al to live, I didn’t care what happened to me. The Truth said it might need a favour one day, that’s all. I figured, what’s so bad about that? It even gave me back my leg, because the thugs had busted up my automail.” Ed was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I think...I have an idea what I gave up. Today, that was the fourth time I’ve seen the Gate since I got our bodies back. Every time, the Truth has helped me and sent me back. My leg, my arm, knowledge...my alchemy. What I gave up...what I gave up was more valuable than all of that. Now I’ve got credit. _It_ owes _me_.”

“You said...you said it wanted a favour. If you help it, does that make you even?”

“I don’t know. The second time, I asked what the deal was. It told me that if it calls, I will come, and in return the Gate is barred to me. Mustang...I think I gave up my death.”

* * *

v : ? 

_[Al’s funeral.]_

[...]

("I never wanted this." he says brokenly. "I never wanted immortality. I just wanted Al to be safe and sound and _happy_ -" he cuts himself off as his voice breaks, and he rubs his face violently; as if the Truth wouldn't notice his tears. 

It gives him a sympathetic look, or as much of one as a faceless, just barely visible supernatural entity can. _and that is why you have your leg, your alchemy...your brother. most people in your position would be euphoric...but you are not. and that, Mr Al-chemist, is why I can return all that you gave: this is the payment._

 _intent,_ it said, _makes all the difference. you never wanted to lose your limbs. you never wanted to give up your alchemy. you never wanted an extended life. you cannot sacrifice something of no value to you, for that would be no sacrifice at all.)_


End file.
